


While Avoiding Scientists

by amberlo133



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-08
Updated: 2016-02-08
Packaged: 2018-05-19 05:02:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5954587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amberlo133/pseuds/amberlo133
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Interludes between Darcy (avoiding work) and Bucky (avoiding therapy).</p>
            </blockquote>





	While Avoiding Scientists

He startled a little when the elevator doors opened. The constant SHIELD psych evals and lingering drugs in his system had shattered the Winter Soldier's hold on his conciousness. They seemed to think that was a positive development but he wasn't so sure. Maybe it would have been better to have one mind in control, even if it was the evil twin. The Soldier had been in charge so long he wasn't even sure what was left when he retreated. The lab geeks seemed pretty sure he was Bucky Barnes. He wasn't convinced it was so simple. 

He sighed and moved forward slowly and cautiously, finding himself in large communal space. His eyes swept the room and fixed on its one occupant. On the largest of the many couchs under a pile of blankets and surrounded by crumpled tissues, sat a brunette. She was glaring at him. 

"And who the hell are you?" He paused at the sharp greeting, which was somewhat tempered by the rusty grate of a sore throat. 

"I'm," he paused, that was his least favourite question right now. Probably better avoided. "Moving in." 

"Oh, well." She shifted under her blankets, resettling. "More the merrier I guess, you here for the superhero hero program?" 

"Not so much." His voice was terse and he scanned the exits hoping to be able to extricate himself before she asked him anything else. She was probably the least formidable person he would ever see in this place and he was already wanting to cut and run. Fuck. He should've staying in the holding cells. 

"Wife or girlfriend?" 

"What?" 

"That's pretty much the only other options on this floor. Or sidekick I suppose." She's smirking at him, clearly teasing. 

"House arrest." He rapped out sharply before his brain could react to any of that. Maybe if she knew who he was she would stop talking. 

"Huh. Why? What'd you do?" 

"Killed a lot of people." She rolled her eyes. 

"Well yes, obviously." He glared at her easy dismissal. "But if that was the whole story you'd be in jail, not the Playboy Mansion, super-power edition." 

"Jail ain't gonna hold me." He had almost said him, or us. His head ached, not knowing which one was even the most appropriate. 

"Don't be dumb." Her tactless attitude grated over his nerves and anger surged. His fists clenched at his sides and a shot of pain shot through his head. 

"Jarvis?" 

"Miss Lewis?" 

"Could you fill me in on our newest stray?" 

"Of course. Name at birth was James Buchanan Barnes, born 1918 in New York. Grew up Brooklyn with Steve Rogers. Joined the 105th in 1941 Captured by Hydra in 1942 and later rescued by Captain America. Became one of the founding members of the Howling Commado's. Reported MIA in 1945 Resurfaced with cybernetic arm as the Winter Soldier, Soviet assassin and propaganda tool. Suggested strong association with Hydra networks and the Red Room." Every fact had hit his brain like a blow, his hands slowly rising to cover his and at the mention of the Red Room he sank to one knee. 

"Stop." She was silent for a moment eyeing him, then blew out a loud breath sinking back against the cushions. 

"Ok, Anakin, don't give yourself an aneurysm. Sit." He rose slowly, stumbled the few steps to an arm chair and collapsed again. 

"Anakin?" He was going to concentrate on the insane girl in front of him for now, if only to ignore the rising cold he had felt following the anger up from his core. He focused on the present. 

"Not a Star Wars fan?" 

"Not great with popular culture." He saw her rise out of the corner of his eye and go to the kitchen. 

"No big, I'm getting used to that shit. So Anakin was a character in a movie. Possibly the movie. Started off this righteous soldier, best intentions and all that, lost his hand and gradually went to the dark side. Erm, became evil. Lost a whole lot of other body parts as well. Had them replaced by machinery." She was interrupted by a coughing fit and noticed that he was looking at her somewhat incredulously. "Yeah sound familiar?" She turned aback away and started pulling mugs out of a cupboard. "However, hero in that movie, his son Luke, follows in his father's footsteps, also loses his hand and is tempted to the dark side. He stays good and eventually redeems his father." She paused thoughtfully, teaspoon in hand. "I guess they haven't decided yet if you're a Luke or an Anakin. Moving on! What should I call you?" She stopped in front of him and pushed a hot cup into his hands, taking her own off back to the couch without a second glance. He was left with a waft a of cherry menthol and a sense of being completely out of his depth. 

"I," he stopped himself, "people have been calling me Sergeant Barnes." His eyes narrowed dangerously, recalling his recent time at SHIELD. 

"And you are so clearly on board with that. Any other options?" He scrabbled in his mind for an answer, for so long he had been more of an it than a named person. He knew he had been on missions where he was given more than a target but it had all been so thoroughly scrubbed out. 

"Yasha." He ground out, surprising himself. It was actually quite fitting he thought. Not quite James, certainly not Buck...his thoughts stopped. He wouldn't go there. No yet. He had been Yasha at some time, some place. It would do for now. 

"Done. Now, pay attention. Today we are watching How to Train Your Dragon because animated movies are an awesome benefit of having man flu." From that point on her words made less and less sense to him and he slowly tuned her out. 

Some time later he asked: "why are you doing this?" She looked at him owlishly. 

"Uh, because I'm ill? And I like the sound of my voice a little too much?" He glared at her until she looked away. "What should I be doing? Hiding in my room? Demanding you keep twenty paces at all times? Sounds exhausting. I'm too sick for that shit." 

"You know I'm dangerous." 

"And yet a whole bunch of people I trust have sent you here, where I am." She shrugged, "why are you letting me spout feverish bullshit? You are equally guilty of this conversation." He felt his mouth twitch up at the corner. 

"True." 

"Or, you know, maybe they were hoping I'd infect and kill you. No more inconvenient cyborg." 

He glares at her. 

"Oh come on, Yasha. If you can't take some bad taste humour you will _never survive this place."_


End file.
